


Nymphetamine

by anotherwinchesterfangirl



Series: Song Prompt Fics [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Demon Blood Addiction, F/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/pseuds/anotherwinchesterfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-season 4, in the time while Dean is in hell and Sam is working with Ruby and in the thick of his addiction to demon blood.</p><p>For the song prompt "Nymphetamine Fix" by Cradle of Filth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nymphetamine

**Author's Note:**

> Nymphetamine: “a drug-like addiction to the woman in question, with her insidious vampire qualities literally bringing her lover back from the brink of the spiritual grave, only to bury him further on the strength of a whim.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nymphetamine)

Sam wakes up shaking, drenched in cold sweat, long legs tangled in cheap motel sheets. His heart is pounding, and it takes him a few moments to get his bearings, to remember where he is. He turns his head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. 2:28. Shit. He hauls himself to his feet and shuffles to the bathroom.

Under dim, yellow light, he studies his face in the mirror, runs his palm along his stubbled jawline, rubs his bloodshot eyes with the heels of his hands. He looks like hell. He can’t remember the last time he slept more than a handful of hours at a time. He can’t remember the last time he slept without dreaming of Dean being ripped to shreds by hellhounds.

If he’s honest with himself, the nightmares have been getting worse, more frequent, more violent, more real—ever since Ruby. Ever since Ruby got her talons in him and convinced him to do this…this wordless exorcism, reducing demons to puffs of burning black smoke with just his mind. Ever since she offered herself up to him, and in a moment of weakness, he took her. Not only is she all over his skin, she’s in him, coursing through him. She’s in his head and deep, deep in the pit of his stomach.

He’s so tangled up in her it feels like a trap, but he could get out, if he wanted to. He isn’t so sure this is a trap he wants out of. At least he’s _doing something_. Sending demons back to the pit, that’s something. And he’s saving innocent, unknowing people, people that never asked to be possessed by that filthy black smoke. He’s still hunting things, saving people. That’s the whole point right? The _how_ doesn’t matter. _It doesn’t matter_.

And at least he has somewhere to channel all this anger, this rage, that bubbles inside his chest twenty-four-seven. If he can’t bring Dean back, at least he can make someone pay for what happened to him. When he sends Lillith to her fiery grave, it will be worth every migraine and nosebleed and nightmare. It will be _well_ worth it.

He splashes a little water on his face and heads back to bed. He lays on his back and listens to the rattle of the radiator, tries to sleep, but his brain won’t relax. He feels twitchy and wound up. Ruby’s been gone for three days, left him in the middle of this godforsaken wasteland of a town and told him to wait. _Wait_. He doesn’t want to wait, he wants to _go_. But he knows she’s right. They’re only gonna get one chance at this, and after he fucked it up the last time, he might as well listen to her. But he’s itchy. He’s itchy to do something, he’s itchy to kill demons, itchy to hunt. He clenches fists at his sides. His brain is prodding him, like his psychic abilities are pushing against his forehead, needy and desperate. And he’s _hungry_. He’s hungry for her. It’s been days since he’s had a fix, and he needs it. The longer he lies here, the worse it gets.

Eventually, he can’t lie still anymore. He throws the sheet off, drops to the floor,  and starts doing pushups, counting under his breath. Once he gets to 60, he sits back on his heels for a minute, hands on his knees, breathing heavy. His stomach makes a sound, and he tries to remember the last time he ate an actual meal. He’s been subsisting on protein bars, whiskey, and demon blood. No wonder he looks like hell. He decides to make sure he gets to a diner for breakfast once the sun comes up. For now, he crams down a protein bar and heads to the shower, stripping off his shirt as he goes.

The water is barely lukewarm, but he’s past the point of caring. He quickly washes his hair, spreads soap over his skin, trying to wash away this itchy feeling. He can’t need it that bad. He’s gotta stay in control.

He rests his head on the tile, letting the water cascade down his broad back, and grips his cock in his hand. Maybe if he can just—he’ll forget about how bad he wants it. He thinks about her, the last time she was here, how good it felt to be inside a woman again. And for just a few minutes, he forgot that she was a demon, that he had his lips wrapped around a sulfur flavored slice in her arm just moments before. He groans, low in the back of his throat, as he remembers the head rush of the demon blood hitting his veins and the feeling of his cock buried deep in her cunt—the sensations are mixed up in his head; he can’t untangle them.

His hand is moving fast now, pumping his dick, his fist slick with soap suds. He presses his forehead into the wall even harder, his shoulders tightening as he comes, spurting over his fist and onto the ugly orange tiles.

When he comes back into the room, the clock reads 3:57. The glowing red numbers taunt him, dare him to try and go back to sleep. He digs through his duffel, throws on jeans and a gray t-shirt, and then stands in the middle of the room. The craving is still there. He needs it.

He picks up his phone, tosses it back and forth between his hands for a minute. On the display, he sees he missed a handful of calls from Bobby, but he dismisses them and dials her number.

“Ruby,” he says in relief when she pick up. “Where are you?”

She laughs, sharp. “Never thought I’d hear you say that, Winchester. I thought you needed a break?” He had said that, before she left. The guilt was starting to get to him, and he thought if he just had some time to sort out his thoughts, he could get a handle on the situation.

“I fucking changed my mind. I need you here. I need it now.” His voice shakes with the want of it.

“Me?” she questions, her voice bitter. “Or my blood?”

“Ruby, please, just—” His voice cracks embarrassingly, and he presses his fingertips into his eyes until he sees spots.

“Sam,” her voice drops into a low soothe. “Sam, I’m sorry. It’s alright. I’ll be there, okay? I’ll be there really soon.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing up and down in anticipation, waiting. When he can’t sit any more, he paces the room, but it’s so small that it’s only a few of his long strides in either direction. Eventually he just sits down again.

Finally, there’s a light knock on the door. He nearly pulls the damn thing off its hinges he yanks it open so hard. He’s keyed up, breathing hard, but Ruby looks completely unfazed. She pushes past him into the room, and he shuts the door, slides the lock back into place. He should ask if she found any clues, a trail to Lillith’s location, anything at all that can help them. But he doesn’t.

He grips her shoulders hard, pushes her against the wall roughly and lowers his mouth to hers. As he’s kissing her, he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip slightly, drawing blood, and then sucks hard. The relief is immediate and takes the edge off his need.

“Hey,” Ruby says, pulling away. “What are you a fucking vampire? I thought you were more of a gentleman than that, Sam.”

Sam licks the blood from his teeth, removes his knife from his pocket, and flips the blade open. She smirks and takes it from him, it’s just an ordinary pocket knife, and drags it across her forearm slowly, creating a shallow incision. He’s on her immediately, sucking greedily at her hot skin, the sulfury copper taste washing over his tongue and down his throat like the coldest glass of water on the hottest day.

The wound is already starting to heal itself when he finally comes up for air, and his lips are still smeared with blood when she pulls his head down for a kiss. She gets her hands inside his t-shirt and pulls it up over his head.

“Fuck me, Sam,” she whispers, hot in his ear. He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

Her head hits the wall with the force of his kiss, and his hands are already pushing off her jacket, fingers fumbling at her belt buckle. She pushes his shoulders, hard, and he stumbles back. She seems so small and fragile, it’s easy to forget how strong she is, that she’s brimming with demonic power. She stalks toward him, removing her shirt and her jeans as she goes, and he walks backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls onto it. She drops to her knees in front of him and reaches for the fly of his jeans, pulling them off along with his boxer briefs, freeing his throbbing cock. She immediately lowers her mouth around it, and he groans, low and guttural.

After a few moments, she releases him, stands in front of him and wiggles out of her panties. She goes to climb onto his lap, but he grabs her and turns, throwing her onto the bed and rolling on top of her. He enters her hard and fast, but she doesn’t make a sound or even a flinch. She meets him thrust for thrust, takes one of his hands and pulls it to her breast, arches her back and licks a hot, wet stripe up the side of his throat, from his collarbone to his ear. His other hand grips her hair and pulls, snapping her head back roughly, and he starts sucking dark marks onto her neck.

All at once, she plants her hands on his chest and pushes hard, rolls them over so she’s straddling him. He’s still inside her, and he moans when she rolls her hips. She throws her hand behind her to summon the pocket knife from the floor then reopens the cut on her arm and smiles down at him, her eyes surprisingly soft. He’s breathing hard and his pupils are blown wide.

“Here, baby,” she coos, and holds her arm above his lips, letting the blood drip, thick and slow, onto his tongue. He swallows a few drops, and then growls, grips her hips hard and drags her up and down his cock. He needs her to _move_.

She takes the hint, bracing her hands on Sam’s strong chest and tossing her head back, her dark hair cascading around her bare shoulders and her plush lips parted. Even Sam has to admit that she looks gorgeous. Sam slides one hand around to press her clit with his thumb, his long fingers splayed across her lower belly, and he rubs hard circles until she’s shaking and clenching around him.

“Come on, Sam,” she says, breathless but still moving, and he does with a roar and throws his head back against the pillow, digging his fingers into her hips hard, leaving bruises that won’t be there tomorrow. He lays there, eyes closed, catching his breath, as Ruby slides off him and stretches out by his side. For a moment, he just basks in his post-coital demon blood high. And for that blissful moment, he’s almost unaware of the coil of guilt in the pit of his stomach that’s always, always there.

Afterward, Sam cleans up in the bathroom, and when he comes out, Ruby is lying on the bed, wearing one of his shirts. Actually, it’s one of Dean’s old shirts, a hand-me-down, and it doesn’t even fit him anymore, but he can’t get rid of it, can’t bring himself to throw it away. Anger flares hot in him.

“Ruby, what the hell?”

“What?” she asks, voice dripping with disdain. She looks down at the ratty black t-shirt, so big on her small frame that it nearly reaches her knees. “I’m just borrowing it. I thought that was a thing that people did…you know, when they’re together.” She shrugs.

“We are not _together_ ,” he spits out. He can’t bring himself to say it’s Dean’s out loud. “Take it off.”

She holds up her hands in surrender. “Fine.” Once she’s traded the shirt for her own clothes, she speaks up again. “You want me to leave again?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t want you to leave again.”

“Good, cause I’ve got some information on Lillith.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are SO appreciated! :)


End file.
